Revelations
by AbaddonNox
Summary: Anderson had never really given the origin of his regenerator abilities, those seemingly miraculous gifts born of divinely inspired science, much thought. Perhaps he should have...


Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Hellsing, that honor belongs to the great Kohta Hirano. Furthermore, the beliefs, events, etc. depicted in this work do not in any way represent the opinions, actions, etc. of the writer. Reader discretion is thusly advised.  
Spoilers: To be safe, all of the manga up through episode 76 (somewhere in volume 9), as well as all three OVA installments (particularly the third).  
Beta(s): Scape Goat & Thalaster  
Warnings: Sacrilegious content  


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**Revelations **

"Your Excellency ..."

"Ah," a man behind an antique desk replied. His head of brittle white hair topped by a skull cap. "Please, have a seat."

The visitor rose from his bow, and settled into the offered chair. Priceless artifacts cluttered the Vatican, and served every role from holy relic to paperweight. But even to accustomed eyes, the surrounding furnishings were superb. The chair, though stiff, sported excellent craftsmanship and lavish velvet tufting, while the central desk was a delicately carved expanse of rich wood. They were masterpieces. Yet, what else would you expect to find in an office belonging to the leader of "Matthew", a division charged with caring for Church antiquities.

"Alexander Anderson of the clandestine thirteenth." Each word hung with punctuated thought. The elderly archbishop allowed tented fingers to slip, but not his eyes. The irises looked blue-green, but were actually a shifty hazel which promised to keep color and calm as much as fickle waters that shade. "I must admit, you are not what I expected." 

Anderson straightened his spine with a chill roll of the shoulders. Those who were privy to the existence of Iscariot, and the regenerator's exploits in particular, invariably expected to meet a brute with a perpetual froth about his mouth. Anderson was accustomed to this reaction. Though it angered him that his fellow clergyman had so little regard for those whose dirtied hands allowed theirs to remain clean.

"Let me get right to the point," the archbishop continued. "We don't have much time and I am not one for delicacy. If I was, I would be in the College of Cardinals, not reigning over this diocese of parishioners whose only sin is collecting dust." Sharply-pressed vestments slithered against each other as he leaned over the desk, fingers intertwining again. "Have you ever wondered what makes you a regenerator? Contemplated the source of those so-called gifts?"

Anderson's face screwed in confusion. Maxwell had relayed that the leader of Matthew wished to entrust Iscariot's top agent with a relic which could prove itself pivotally useful in the approaching crusade. What did that have to with his regenerator abilities, or their origins? Were these questions some sort of test to confirm his worthiness?

"Of course not," the archbishop added briskly with a dismissive wave. "Which is why they chose a nice devote and unquestioning gentleman like yourself."

The paladin bristled, but managed a passable facade of composure. Anderson hated Vatican politics. Interdivisional squabbles were easy to start, and exceedingly hard to end. Ruffling the feathers of a prestigious bureau whose director out-ranked Maxwell would certainly cause problems, especially with war looming. He would bite his tongue – for now.

Regardless, the interrogation continued. "Are you familiar with lycanthropy?"

"Werewolves?" Anderson said, before shrugging. "I don't waste my time on extinct devils. There are so many others to send down the same path."

"Well, they're not extinct." Paper hissed softly over a plush blotter. "The fact that you exist testifies to that." Anderson leaned forward to glance at the offering. Prim manila lay embossed with the seal of "Thomas" and that section's motto: _Y__ou have believed because you have seen, blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believe_. It was a file from the Vatican's research and development division.

Before Anderson could attempt to articulate the confusion furrowing his brow, the archbishop rose. "Oh, there was a concerted effort to eradicate the general population. But some of our forbears thought this _living_ monstrosity could be redeemed. Its good qualities cleansed and harnessed to fight on the side of good, particularly against undead." Purple cloth rustled as the archbishop made a show of looking out a window, fingers laced behind his back. "They discovered that it was possible to infect someone into a weakened form of the curse. These individuals remain outwardly human, but exhibit useful traits like increased agility, strength, stamina, and accelerated healing."

The older man turned abruptly, robes stirring up a weak eddy of dust. Each floating particle acquired its own golden halo of sunlight before settling into shadow. "Unfortunately, suppression techniques merely delay, rather than halt, the onset of acute lycanthropy. With you they perfected the silver inoculations ..."

Anderson absently rubbed his left thigh. But those monthly injections _gave_ him the abilities in question, didn't they? He willingly endured each grueling session as a sacrifice to the Almighty and His divine providence. Searing agony soothed by the knowledge that God never shouldered His children with more than they could bear.

"... but there will come a time when even those will stop working ..."

"Blasphemy!" Anderson jerked to his feet and hissed, clenched fists quivering. The archbishop merely waded back to lean, arms straight but unstrained, against the polished surface of his desk.

"You want to kill me don't you?" he whispered with an odd smile, eyes a polluted blue. "Rip open my throat right here. I bet you can already feel my flesh in your grip, perhaps even smell fresh blood?" The smile twisted into an outraged sneer. "Is that what being touched by the Holy Spirit should do? Drive you to murder someone who is only trying to open your eyes to the truth?"

Anderson wanted the words to stop. But they kept coming, chopping away at what he thought immutable with even strokes. "That sounds more like Cain than Christ, and you have the mark, so to speak. When did your hair start to go grey, Father? Do you blame your imagination whenever it feels or smells vaguely like fur? There is always a warmth at the base of your spine, yes? I am sure you call it something fancy, an eternal hearth of faith or whatnot. But isn't it more like a slumbering beast? When that fire flares up do your bones ache? Skin itch as if plagued by a rash of ingrown hairs?"

The paladin collapsed back into his chair. Yet Anderson could no longer feel its velvet plushness, or the unforgiving wood. Those sensations belonged to a world rendered crystalline and shifted just beyond reach. No, Anderson thought, intellect stumbling free of paralyzed emotions – it was he who had been cast out. "Why are you telling me this?"

"The one before you kept his monastic vow of silence even after being offered a dispensation," the archbishop replied, flashing angry green irises. "Damning our own is unforgivable, but condemning the pious to hellfire? Can enough good ever be gained through those vile means to right such a wrong?!" Sharp thuds marked the impact of fists against heavy wood. "It needs to end! Committing evil for the sake of good is a slippery slope, and there are lines that should never be crossed. Being Iscariot, you should know this better than anyone!"

He paused, settling behind his desk again. "During the early stages of World War II, there was a small matter of an isolated SS officer trying to coerce some of our people," the archbishop relayed with softened speech. "Your predecessor was dispatched to make an example of the fool. However, that regenerator managed to get himself captured. We were blackmailed into helping those despicable Nazi heathens, through the war and even after! Making deals with demons to hide your own devilry? Sinning to conceal sins? No, we must repent. And the first step towards that end is turning our backs on such wickedness."

With one slender arm, the archbishop reached across the desk. "As of this moment, all that remains of project Nehushtan is this file ..." A sharp click birthed a spark onto one of the folder's lower edges. He waved the papers until flames licked higher, then tossed the whole smoldering mess into a nearby brazier. " ... and you."

"Regretfully your body is beyond saving. As for your soul ..." A swaddled box appeared, spirited out of some secret drawer. The archbishop pushed the narrow package towards Anderson, irises slipping back into the slimy blue tones of an algal sea. "I give you the means by which to redeem yourself, purify the one true Church, and bring glory to your Faith. The rest is up to you."

Muffled voices, and the ticks of countless antique clocks, crowded the silence between them. Even these minor sounds jarred Anderson, before surprise morphed into a bitter realization. Had he really expected the world to hang, to hold its breath on a decision that really wasn't a choice at all? Anderson finally reached for the bundle, slipping it into his cassock and rising to leave without a word. He was at the door, shoulders and neck sagging into a prowl, before the archbishop raised his voice.

"Father Anderson?"

The paladin halted and turned his head, but not enough so their eyes would meet.

"You will be in my prayers."

Anderson's lips curled into an ugly smile, and what started as a mirthless chuckle rose into bitter laughter beyond the threshold.

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A/N: Thank you for getting this far in my piece. I decided to tackle Anderson's powers, manga hair color, and confusing actions after showing up in London ... as well as the Captain's origins, muteness, OVA hair color, and why Heinkel was spared ... all in one story! Why? I wish I knew. This plot bunny has been around since "Beta Male", but somehow my brain decided only recently to flush it out ... darn muses. I thought about including it as a chapter of "Phases of the Moon", since it does address the theme of said collection. But for Anderson's sake, I thought it needed to be kept separate. If you have a minute please leave me your thoughts/comments. Any and all feedback is love :)


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